


Detroit is Strange

by AeonianShark



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Human AU, M/M, life is strange au, other tags will be added as needed, rated for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeonianShark/pseuds/AeonianShark
Summary: Connor had never been naïve enough to think that moving back to Detroit would be simple. The emotional baggage alone weighed down on him. But things get even more hectic when visions of a tremendous storm start haunting him, and a bizarre power awakens within him. And a familiar face causes almost as much pain as he does joy.





	1. Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> Heeey it’s been a decade since I wrote a summary, can you tell? 
> 
> This whole idea has been a brainstorming collab between myself and my friend Sarah AKA @BleuCrusher on Twitter. I have some scenes written out, Sarah’s got some lovely art, and hopefully I’ll get to share it all with you guys!

The sound of thunder cracking made Connor Stern snap to consciousness. His eyes felt heavy and when he struggled to open them, he tried to understand where the hell he was. He was drenched with the rain that was pelting from the sky and the leaf-littered ground beneath him squelched as he tried to prop himself up. His muddied clothes clung to him and Connor grimaced at the uncomfortable feeling. Looking around, he felt disoriented. Between the howling wind, rain blurring his vision, and flashes of lightning illuminating the trees, he really couldn’t tell much about where he was. 

_ How did I get here? _ he wondered.  _ Why did I wake up out here? What the hell is going on? _

A strike of lightning illuminated a familiar sight to him: a lighthouse. Which one it was, he didn’t know for sure. But a landmark of any kind was a welcome sight. He felt if he could just make it to the lighthouse, he would be safer. With a deep breath, Connor raised an arm ahead of him to keep his face from being pelted with rain as he pushed against the wind. Hopefully, it was a lighthouse he could actually get into...He was chilled to the bone, soaked through. How long had he been laying there in the mud? He was lucky he had woken up before a puddle could form and drown him. That would have just been his luck. 

Luck must have been on his side tonight, though, as he finally made his way out of the trees. A loud rumble of thunder made him flinch. He needed safety as soon as possible. He ran over to the lighthouse as quickly as he dared, considering the slippery pavement, and grabbed the door handle like it was a lifeline. He gave it a pull but nothing happened. He scowled and gave another hard tug, then another, and yet another. The door barely budged and showed no promise of opening without a key. “Shit,” he sighed, resting his forehead against the cold, wet metal. 

Helplessly, he wrapped his arms around himself to conserve what little body heat he had left and looked out at the churning waters of the Detroit River. His mouth gaped and he felt his stomach drop at what he saw. 

The skies were black with storm clouds, but the most prominent thing in his vision right now was what looked like an absolutely massive tornado. Of course, Connor knew that a true tornado was landbound. This was a waterspout, so large that it blotted out half the sky, traveling over what Connor could only assume was Lake St. Clair. Words escaped him, filled with dread as the impossibly large storm seemed ready to swallow up him and whatever else crossed its path. The cacophony of noise was becoming overwhelming, the screaming wind in his ears, the crashing waves, the pounding rain. It was too much, too much, too---

  
  
  


Connor awoke with a sharp inhale, sitting up at his desk. It took him a few moments to realize where he was again. He looked down at his disorganized desk, covered in stacks of papers and a computer monitor plastered with sticky notes along the edges with reminders. His heart pounded so hard with adrenaline that he could feel his pulse in his ears and his scalp tingled. Slowly, the pieces came together. He was at his desk at the DPD, back in the forensics department. He noticed the drool spot on his sleeve and cringed. _I fell asleep…?_ _But that dream...it felt so real_. If he wasn’t able to touch his clothes now and see they were perfectly dry, he might still think he had been dragged out of the rain. 

“Are you alright, Connor?” 

Connor stiffened in surprise, looking to his left. A blonde man stared him down with a level of concern that made Connor feel sheepish. 

“Ah, yeah, Simon,” he replied, hiding his shaking hands by reorganizing some of the papers on his desk. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to doze off like that.” He avoided looking at his co-worker, shuffling papers and hoping that maybe he could avoid the inevitable lecture. 

“You haven’t been sleeping much again, have you?” It may as well have been an accusation, but there was no heat to Simon’s words. Connor set the papers down and ran a hand through his barely manageable curls with a sigh. 

“That obvious, huh?” he glanced at Simon with a crooked attempt at a smile. He pretended he couldn’t still feel the rain from his dream clinging to him. 

“Well, even if you weren’t falling asleep at your desk, you’ve got a shopping trip’s worth of bags under your eyes,” Simon replied with a little smile of his own. Connor huffed with amusement. 

“Flattering description, but fair.” He punctuated the point with a yawn. 

“Have you tried the valerian root tea I suggested?” Simon asked, raising a brow at him as though he were Connor’s mother. 

“Yes, and you should have warned me that shit’s bitter,” Connor pouted his lip a little. “Had to dump a bunch of honey in it. I’m not sure how much it helped either way. And before you ask,” he added, raising a finger before Simon could continue his questioning, “I did try melatonin, too.” 

Simon hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve heard the smell of lavender can be soothing for sleep.”

Connor chuckled and went back to organizing his papers--properly, this time. “I appreciate it, Si, but I don’t think much was going to calm my anxiety enough to let me sleep this week.” 

Simon clicked his tongue sympathetically. “Are you still worried about running into you-know-who?” he asked, voice gentle and low to keep the conversation more private. Connor’s silence and avoidance of eye contact said it all. “Connor, you really should just go talk to him. Good or bad, you would at least have everything out in the air. Your stress isn’t going to get any better if you just keep avoiding it.” 

He knew logically that Simon made sense, but when he thought of such a confrontation, it almost felt as gut-wrenching as that giant waterspout in his dreams, black clouds and all. No, that was just...not something he was ready for yet. 

“I know he already knows I’m back,” Connor murmured in reply. “What good does it do for me to get punched in the bullpen? It’s better for both of us if I just stay away from him as long as possible. When the time comes, we can, uh...cross that broken nose when we get there. But for now, I’d just like to get my shit in order in Detroit again before I even think about any of that.” 

Simon nodded, patting Connor on the back. “I get it. Just try to take care of yourself, okay? I know how you get,” he frowned. “You’re not allowed to stay late unless the boss says so, got it? No voluntary overtime just to avoid your problems.” 

Connor looked at him, almost ready with a snarky remark, but the sincerity on his friend’s face made him relax a bit. Simon cared about everyone at the DPD, in truth, but he and Connor had developed a close bond back in the academy days. He would dote and fuss over any of his friends, but few people in Connor’s life knew him quite so well as Simon Parish. 

“You don’t have to worry about that, Simon,” Connor replied wearily. “I’ve still got too much to do settling in. Judo’s not gonna be happy about the temporary downsize in space, I’ve got boxes to unpack, got some other guy’s caseload dropped on me…” Connor counted off on his fingers, trailing off in thought. 

“Aww, how’s little Judy doing?” Simon cooed. The blonde adored animals of all kinds, as Connor had learned when he tried to get Connor to agree that moray eels were cute. They had to agree to disagree. 

“She’s doing well,” Connor beamed, proud of his St. Bernard. “Not little anymore, that’s for sure. She runs the house and she knows it. She’s not thrilled about the move, though. So much howling. So much backseat barfing,” Connor sighed heavily, remembering every stop he’d made between Grand Rapids and Detroit to scrub out Judo’s accidents vividly. Three hours in shitty traffic had felt like an eternity. 

Simon laughed. “Was it her first time on a car trip?” 

“The first one longer than the vet’s office. Hopefully, it’ll be the last. I’d have to tranq that drama queen for any peace of mind.” Connor cleared his throat, realizing this was a conversation that could wait until break. He was already lucky he didn’t get caught dozing off at his desk. 

“Anyway, I’d just be happy to spend as little time here as necessary right now,” Connor said quietly, idly looking through his emails for anything important. “Just me, my computer, and this a cup of coffee. Or two.”

Of course, things couldn’t be that easy. 


	2. Movement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so so sorry this took so long...August ended up being a hell of a month for me. Health, relationships, all kinds of garbage. So hopefully this chapter was somewhat worth the wait lol
> 
> I think I remembered to italicize all Connor’s thoughts, but I might have missed some. I also apologize if I missed any of those in ch 1.

Connor could have sworn the clocks were all frozen. There was no way this morning was going by so slowly. He was starting to develop a pretty potent headache. 

“Where on your head?” North had asked him. Connor wearily placed his hand over his entire forehead and she clicked her tongue sympathetically. “Definitely stress.”

“Stress?” Connor asked, his voice cracking on the word on the verge of laughter. “Gee, I wonder what that could be about. God, it figures I would forget my Advil today,” he sighed. 

“Don’t sweat it, I’ve got some in my locker,” North waved her hand dismissively. “I can grab a couple for you.”

“You’re an angel, North.”

She laughed, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “Shows how well you know me. I just don’t want to listen to your whimpering all day.” Her playful expression betrayed her words. 

The pills did help some once they kicked in, but Connor still felt an uncomfortable pressure. _Maybe it’s going to rain later_ , he thought. Immediately, he could see the waterspout from his dream in his mind again and he almost cringed. Air pressure, stress, whatever it was, all Connor knew was that he needed a break. Even his eyes were starting to ache. 

He pushed his chair back and got up. “I’ll be right back. Just gotta use the restroom.” It wasn’t a lie, but Simon and North didn’t need to know that he felt like he was minutes away from wriggling out of his own skin if he sat there much longer. 

“That’s what you get for three cups of crappy coffee,” Simon tutted. 

Connor rolled his eyes. “Remind me to pack my juicebox next time, Mom.”

Simon shot him a look.“Your attitude isn’t much better than the coffee this morning.” North was trying poorly to hide her grin. 

Connor frowned, feeling a pang of guilt. Why should he lash out at Simon? It wasn’t his fault that he was stressed out and a little nauseated. “Sorry, Si. Just this damn headache.”

“It’s fine,” Simon replied, though his usual smile seemed dimmer. “Just go on. And drink some water, please.” 

Connor hesitated for a second before nodding and leaving the room. Everything still felt...off since coming back. It’s not like forensics was a particularly calming field, especially when cases turned grisly. But it wasn’t hard to notice that the entire DPD felt like they were on edge. 

A poster he passed on the way to the restroom was a consistent reminder why: Sergeant Trudy Shaw was missing, and had been for a little over four months. Connor remembered hearing about it even when he was in Grand Rapids. He had never met Trudy, but from what he’d heard since coming back, she’d been a decent person and great co-worker. Most people who mentioned her did so with reverence, well-respected and loved. 

He had seen her missing person posters around town, especially in shops. The brunette’s face seemed to haunt him wherever he went. He could only imagine how it felt for people who had actually known her. He hoped against hope that, wherever she was, she was somehow safe. This long into being missing, there was a better chance of a corpse than a victory, but he desperately didn’t want to be called in to work on that case. _For once, a happy ending. Please._

Connor shouldered open the door to the unisex restroom and leaned against the countertop. At least this restroom got less traffic. He did need to use the restroom, but right this second, what he really wanted was to take a moment to just...be. Not focusing on work, not being social, not worrying about his mess of an apartment or whether Judo was upset that he wasn’t home or the boxes he’d shoved into his closet that really did need unpacked soon—

Connor sighed, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. _Just turn off your brain for ten fucking seconds._ He turned the faucet on and rubbed some cold water on his face. He kept rubbing at his temples, eyes shut for a moment. Turning off his brain was a skill he had never quite mastered. Against his own wishes, his mind continued to reel in a directionless fashion like a top spun too hard. Tilting and crashing into other things with no idea where it would land. From work to headache, from headache to home, from home to packing, and somehow packing ended up knocking back into work. He frowned and opened his eyes, staring into the mirror. 

To his credit, he didn’t think he looked as miserable as he felt. Sure, there were bags under his eyes as Simon had so kindly pointed out, but aside from that he looked as composed as usual. He adjusted his tie, feeling a ripple of self-consciousness. After leaving for so long, it still felt somehow wrong to be here. It was like he hadn’t earned it, even if the transfer was no more biased than the one that sent him away to begin with. Connor knew the feeling should fade soon. He had felt the same way when he moved to Grand Rapids, too. That wasn’t much comfort right now. 

“Are you ever gonna stop being a shitshow, Stern?” he muttered to his reflection before wiping the water from his face. When he lowered his sleeve from his face, he caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Connor startled, head whipping towards the movement. 

Oh...It was a butterfly. He scolded himself for being so keyed up, but the self-deprecation was a quiet echo in the back of his mind. His gaze followed the fluttering orange and black creature to see it fly behind a stall. Connor glanced briefly at the bathroom door before carefully following the butterfly. 

The creature had landed on a bucket with a mop in it that must have been left there by the janitorial staff. Slowly, rhythmically, the butterfly opened and closed its wings. Connor knelt down next to the bucket and stared at it. A monarch butterfly, he assumed. It was one of the few butterflies that he knew by name, and they were quite distinct. He sat there taking in every detail for a moment, marveling at how many little white dots there were along the black edges, the rich shade of orange, even noticing the abdomen speckled with white against black. 

“Hi, little fella,” he said softly. “How on earth did you manage to get in here, huh?” Connor was tempted to reach out a finger to see if it would crawl onto him, but decided he didn’t want to startle it. Of all times not to have an actual camera on hand… 

“Can you hold still for me, little guy?” Connor asked in that same hushed, gentle voice as if he was talking to a child. He fished his phone out of his pocket and quickly opened up the camera app. “Let’s see here…” He centered the butterfly as best he could in the shot, shifting a little bit to see if he could get a good angle. He smiled proudly as he was able to get a shot with its wings open to show off the more vibrant colors. 

The bathroom door opened, startling Connor again. It must have scared the butterfly, too, because it took off from its perch. Connor watched as the butterfly flew up to the top of the paper towel dispenser, pressing himself against the wall as he listened to see who had come in. He felt ridiculous as his heart pounded. Was he really so afraid of a confrontation? He had only come in here to take a piss, why should he cower like this? 

But then a woman spoke and Connor frowned. Her voice sounded familiar, and yet…

“Deep breaths, Chloe…” He could hear her take two quick breaths. “Everything will be okay. This will blow over just like everything else does.” 

Hesitantly, Connor leaned forward enough to get a peek past the stalls. Standing where Connor had been only moments ago, gripping the counter with white knuckles, was Chloe Fowler. Connor had never known her or her two sisters very well. The Fowler triplets came and went a lot and the forensics area wasn’t a place where they were welcome, nor were they interested in it. The few times that they had crossed paths, Connor remembered her disgusted, dismissive attitude towards his line of work. Still, even after a 5 year absence, she didn’t look like she had changed at all. Same slick, blonde ponytail, a navy blue dress clinging to her figure, and a black purse on her shoulder. He wondered if the other two had changed at all or if Chloe was the only one frozen in time. 

He leaned back from the stall again, just enough to hopefully stay out of sight. It was a unisex restroom, sure, but what kind of creep would he look like to Chloe if he just popped up from the corner in the bathroom? And the last thing he needed was Fowler up his ass about some “he said, she said” issue his daughter whined about. He could just wait until she finished her business and left.  
Or so he thought, until the bathroom door was flung open again. Heavy steps stomped along the line of stalls, presumably checking to see if any were occupied. Connor’s jaw tensed and he tried to angle himself so the mop and bucket obscured him. He could tell from the shoes that it was definitely another man in here. When the man walked away from Connor’s hiding spot, Connor relaxed a little. 

“Came in here to hide, princess?” the man asked mockingly. Connor’s heart stuttered and his hand flew over his mouth to stifle his surprise. Of all people that could have walked in here…

“You should use some mouthwash, Lieutenant,” Chloe responded coldly. “I can smell last night’s booze when you speak.” 

“Wow, so cutting,” the man responded flatly. “What next, gonna tell me I’m an old man?” 

“Fuck off,” was Chloe’s only response. There was a moment of silence where Connor wondered what was happening. Curiosity got the better of him and he leaned over a little bit, just enough to see around the corner of the stall. He glanced up at the mirrors to make sure he was still low enough. 

Chloe was still at the sinks, flushed cheeks giving away her anger. The lieutenant had his back turned to Connor, but even still, he was fairly certain he knew who it was. Connor bit the inside of his lower lip, listening intently. 

“I see you haven’t changed much,” the man grunted, circling behind Chloe to stand at her other side. Chloe may have blocked part of the view, but she was nowhere near tall enough to block out the man’s face. Connor’s stomach twisted a little with guilt at the confirmation he could no longer deny. Standing in this bathroom was Hank Anderson, his old friend. The man he’d had such a close bond with...and then had practically abandoned for a transfer to Grand Rapids five years ago. 

His eyes darted, frantically taking in information about Hank. His figure had changed a little bit, and his hair was longer than he remembered. But his features, like those gentle blue eyes, were still the same. Well, perhaps his eyes didn’t seem very gentle right now. 

“Look, let’s cut to the chase, kid,” Hank crossed his arms. “You and I both know who I saw you hanging around. And we both know you don’t want the captain to find out about it.” 

Chloe eyed him suspiciously. “What’s your point?” Connor could see her clutching her purse closer to her hip. 

He looked up at the paper towel dispenser to see if the butterfly was still up there, but it was out of his sight. For some reason, that only added another drop of anxiety in his chest as he turned back to the pair glaring daggers at each other.  
“If you give me their names, I’ll leave you out of the arrest,” Hank replied simply. 

“I’m not a snitch,” Chloe hissed. “Those are my friends and I’m not some suspect you’re interrogating!” Connor watched one hand slip into her purse, though her stare was fixed on Hank. 

“So you’d rather get arrested?” Hank raised a brow skeptically. “Do you really wanna get your prissy ass locked up because of this?” 

Before Connor could quite process what was happening, Chloe’s hand flew out of her purse and she turned to face Hank. Unable to see what happened, Connor looked to Hank and tensed up when he saw the older man’s expression. He had seen it on Hank’s face before out in the field. He was trying to look calm, but Connor could tell he was unsettled. His heart beat frantically against his chest and his fingers began to tingle. _Breathe, breathe, don’t have an anxiety attack right now._

“Stop talking down to me, you old fuck!” Chloe seethed. Connor heard a metallic click and his eyes widened. _Oh fuck, she has a gun..._

“How did you get that in here?” Hank asked carefully. 

“You don’t know anything about me!” Chloe continued, ignoring Hank’s question. Hank took a cautious step back but Chloe gave no space, shoving the gun against him. “My father won’t let me go to jail. And not a damn one of these people would miss _you_.”

Hank raised his hands up as the gun jabbed at his stomach, taking another slow step backwards. 

“Shooting an officer is gonna get you a lot more time than—“ 

“Shut up!” Chloe snapped. Even from here, Connor could see she was shaking. “I’m so sick of people like you pretending you give a shit about me!”

“Chloe, put the gun away!” Hank barked, dropping the attempt at placation and taking on a commanding tone instead. 

“No!”

Connor could feel himself trembling, knowing he should interfere but frozen in place. He couldn’t even believe this was happening. He had to keep reminding himself to breathe as his headache throbbed and his fingers went numb. 

“Chloe, listen to me. You don’t want to do this.”

“Quit acting like you know what I want!” Chloe yelled.

A gunshot rang out, so loud that it smothered Connor’s thoughts. He sat there, numb, as he and Hank both looked at the dark red bloom spreading across Hank’s stomach.


	3. Retrograde

“Hank!” Connor’s voice came out choked as he watched the scene in numb shock. Everything seemed to slow down as Hank’s knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor. Connor wanted to scream, wanted to lunge at Chloe, do  _ something _ , but he felt like he was swallowed by molasses. Unable to move or speak, smothered and glued in place. 

Chloe startled at Connor’s cry, whipping around with the gun still in hand. His heart jumped and reflexively, he flung his arm in front of him. God knows it wouldn’t do shit against a bullet, but minds were strange like that when panicked. Decisions weren’t always logical. His eyes squeezed shut, anticipating the inevitable pain of a gunshot wound. 

…But nothing came. Eyes still shut, Connor felt the earth beneath him lurch as if he was about to faint. He felt like he was dangling on the precipice of it, heavy and light at the same time, ears ringing, fingers tingling. The sensations remained, yet he didn’t lose consciousness. Cautiously, heart pounding in his throat, Connor opened his eyes. 

The world before him was unmoving. Chloe stood with her finger squeezing a trigger that would not pull, expression twisted up miserably. For as little care he had for her, Connor did feel a twinge of pity at the look in her eyes. But what the hell was this? Why... _ How  _ was this happening? 

Connor’s eyes drifted to Hank. The man was leaned against the wall, head hung low. Was he unconscious? A shot that close in an area full of vital organs certainly spelled disaster either way. Unbidden, images flashed in Connor’s mind of victims he’d investigated who had a bullet shred their kidney, who had a wound to their intestines that made them go septic, who choked on their own blood. None of them had deserved such a fate, and especially not Hank. _ This can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t it can’t it— _

Connor closed his eyes again, grimacing at the bloom of pressure in his head returning more potently than ever. It felt like someone was yanking his brain on a string. The throbbing ache started in his forehead, but soon it came from all angles of his head, nauseating and overwhelming. And just as he was sure his brain must be ready to explode…

...He jolted up from his desk with a gasp. 

Connor’s felt like he was practically vibrating with restlessness, staring at his desk in disbelief. Computer monitor ringed with sticky notes, documents askew—wait. Hadn’t he straightened those up? 

“Are you alright, Connor?” 

Simon’s voice startled him and he nearly fell out of his chair. “Shit!”

“Whoa!” Simon leaned over to help steady the wobbly brunette. “Jeez, Stern, I didn’t mean to make you jump out of your skin,” he said with a nervous chuckle. 

“It’s okay,” Connor managed a weak smile, hoping it wouldn’t show on his face that he was internally screaming.  _ What happened?! How am I back here? Where’s Hank? _ “I just, uh...guess I had a really lucid dream.”

Simon gave him a curious look. “Oh yeah? What about? Whenever I have lucid dreams, I—“

“Simon, I mean this in the nicest way possible,” North cut in from Connor’s other side, “but hearing other people’s dreams is dull as dirt. Don’t make Connor fall asleep again.”

Simon rolled his eyes and replied with something Connor didn’t quite hear. His eyes and mind were utterly focused on the time on his computer monitor: 9:35 AM. He knew for certain that it was past 11 AM when he had gone to the restroom. His brain felt like it was buzzing, but no solid thoughts seemed to form. Just a bundle of question marks and sinking sensation down to his toes that whatever he had seen had definitely not been a dream. 

“You haven’t been sleeping much again, have you?” Connor tore himself from his spiraling thoughts to look at Simon. He hesitated before replying. 

“Um, yeah, not really.” He recalled Simon’s earlier jab about the bags under his eyes and sighed. “I guess it’s pretty obvious. Not like I can hide the bags under my eyes.”

“You could go grocery shopping with them,” Simon chuckled. 

“You also have a drool spot on your sleeve,” North pointed out. Connor cringed at the dark mark. He’s forgotten about that little detail. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” North continued with a teasing smile, “but you deserved to know.”

“Appreciate it,” Connor mumbled, rolling up his sleeves. The morning wasn’t going... _ exactly _ as it had before. But then, he  _ had  _ thrown things off by getting spooked by Simon. “Are we done teasing me for sleeping like shit all week now?”

Simon and North both apologized, though barely tried to hide their smiles. 

“Did you try that valerian root tea?” Simon asked. Connor glanced at him, wary of the deja vu, and nodded. 

“Yeah. You should have warned me how bitter that crap is,” he replied. “Used half a container of honey on it…” 

“It’s not  _ that  _ bad, you big baby!” Simon laughed, nudging Connor’s shoulder. “What about—“

“I tried melatonin, too,” Connor sighed. His eyes drifted back to the clock. He needed to make sure to get to the restroom before Chloe and Hank. He felt antsy thinking about it and part of him wished he could have an excuse to just hang out in there a couple hours. Or hell, if it was his fault that time flew backwards—a thought that still needed processing—it sure would be nice to know how to fling it forward as well. For now, he would just have to wait...but at least that damn headache wasn’t bothering him. 

Just as before, the morning passed agonizingly slowly. However, Connor was laced with anxiety now, bouncing his foot under his desk, having difficulty focusing, just generally fidgety. Knowing that something awful was about to happen and all he could do was wait for the right time to scurry off. 

So he gushed to Simon about Judo again. Talked about his reluctance to run into Hank again, though that topic had a new undercurrent to it. Read the same documents over and pretended he was absorbing any of the information. Glanced at his computer’s clock to see the minutes tick away. His uncharacteristically antsy behavior did not go unnoticed.

“Connor, your bouncy leg keeps jiggling my desk,” North said, leveling him with a look. He hadn’t even realized his leg was bouncing. He made a conscious effort to stop it. 

“Sorry,” he replied with a sigh. 

“You’re really wound up today,” Simon chimed in. “This isn’t all because of the Lieutenant, is it?”

Connor shifted in his chair and glanced between his two friends. There was no way that they would believe him if he explained what happened. And even if they did, he really felt this was something to keep to himself. For a moment, he remembered a cartoon he watched as a kid about a girl who could talk to animals but had to keep it a secret or she’d lose her powers. Connor had no clue if this would follow similar logic but still, best to keep quiet. 

“Ah, no, it’s not that…” Connor bit his lip and rubbed his stomach. “Sorry, my breakfast just isn’t sitting well, I think.”

Simon frowned in concern but North laughed. 

“Oh my god, don’t tell me you went for a gas station burrito again. After last time?”

He’d actually had a normal breakfast of scrambled eggs, but claiming indigestion made a nice excuse no one would question much. 

“Ugh, I was in a rush,” Connor moaned, shoving North’s shoulder when she kept laughing. 

“You are the king of poor choices,” she snickered. 

Connor glanced at the time and felt a jolt in his stomach. It was time to go. 

“I’m just gonna go to the restroom, okay? I’ll be back, uh, soon.”

As he pushed his chair back, Simon gave him a look halfway between sympathetic and cringing. “Use the unisex room, it gets less traffic.”

“Already way ahead of you there,” Connor replied hastily, speed-walking down the hallway. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so again, things have been slow due to personal stuff going on. Not going to go into a lot of detail but I wanted to get this ch out before more shit happens, even if it’s shorter than I wanted


	4. Up the Wolves

“Alright, you can do this,” Connor sighed as he washed his face in the sink again. He wasn’t entirely sure how any of this time travel stuff was supposed to work--God, it was hard enough to even still wrap his mind around “time travel” being an actual thing--but on his walk to the restroom he had decided to just try to repeat the morning’s events as closely as he could. All he could think about was time travel movies where one little change affected events massively and the emphasis of not creating a paradox or whatever. Of course, that left him with a concern of what exactly might happen once he truly did break away from events and helped Hank...but that part was just a risk he was going to have to take. If the universe collapsed in on itself, well, that could just be one more thing for Hank to hate him for. 

He wiped the extra water away from his face with his sleeve and paused when he noticed a flash of orange in his peripheral. He lowered his arm slowly and stared at the monarch butterfly delicately fluttering down to the janitor’s bucket, just as it had before. Connor’s mind raced as he watched it leisurely resting on the bucket’s edge, remembering that there was an aspect of time travel often connected to butterflies. “The butterfly effect…” he muttered to himself. He eyed the orange and black butterfly suspiciously as he walked towards it. 

“Alright, little guy,” Connor said quietly, kneeling next to the bucket. “You’re just...a regular butterfly, right? No shenanigans?” The butterfly opened and closed its wings in response. “Uh-huh...So if you were some kind of harbinger of doom, you’d tell me? We’re friends, after all.”

He opened his phone camera to take a satisfactory photo while the butterfly seemed to not give a single goddamn about Connor’s stressed attempt at humor. After a bit of fumbling courtesy of his shaking fingers, he was able to frame a decent shot of the monarch again. With a note of pride, he even managed to get a shot with the wings open again. “I guess you’ll keep your secrets, huh?” 

Connor shoved his phone back into his pocket, attempting to ignore the way his heart was pounding as he waited for the inevitable entrance of Chloe. 

Even though he was anticipating it this time, the bathroom door slamming open still made him jump. On the plus side, he was a little less panicky when making sure he couldn’t be seen. 

“Deep breaths, Chloe…Everything will be okay.” Connor inhaled deeply through his nose along with her, trying to focus his thoughts. It only now occurred to him that he hadn’t even thought of a plan for what to do. It wasn’t as if he could take Chloe on unarmed. If she wasn’t afraid to crowd Hank, an absolute grizzly bear of a man, what chance would he have? And the last time he had revealed himself, Chloe had tried to shoot him as well. If it weren’t for his new ability, he and Hank would both be dead on the floor. So what the hell could he do from the restroom? 

A thought sparked in his head just as Hank entered the scene. What was one of the best ways to clear a room? Fire. Of course, he couldn’t just start a fire in here but all he really needed was for a fire alarm to go off. Connor glanced around the room as he listened to Chloe and Hank snipe at each other. His heart leapt when he spotted the bright red fire alarm against the back wall. _Yes!_ He carefully stood up, worried that making any noise might distract Chloe in the wrong way. He wasn’t even positive that this rewinding ability wasn’t just a one-shot deal, so why take extra risks? 

Heart pounding like it was trying to burst from his chest, Connor pulled down the handle of the fire alarm. Even though he was expecting the noise, the alarm still made him flinch. 

“What the hell--?” He heard Chloe start to speak, but it was cut off by the sound of her gun hitting the floor. Connor stayed plastered to the wall, but he could hear Hank shove her away and the click of her heels as she stumbled. 

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ point a gun like that again,” Hank growled, kicking the gun under one of the stalls. “Now get your ass outside.” 

Hank all but slammed the bathroom door as he left, and Connor quickly shuffled his position to avoid being seen when he heard Chloe looking for her gun. She was sniffling and mumbling something he couldn’t make out before she, too, scrambled out of the bathroom. 

Relief rushed through him in a way that left him lightheaded as he sagged to the floor. “I did it,” he whispered. He stared at his trembling hands, then raised his gaze to look at the monarch butterfly still peacefully perched on top of the paper towel dispenser. His throat choked up and a weak wheeze of laughter fluttered out of him. “I fucking _did it_.” Connor covered his face with his hands, letting the stress shake out of him as the alarm echoed off the bathroom walls. 

After giving himself several minutes to gather himself and feel a little less like he was made of gelatin, Connor figured he should probably head out with everyone else. He paused with his hand on the door handle and glanced over his shoulder. The butterfly was gone. He felt a twinge of disappointment. “Good luck, wherever you are,” he murmured. 

As he opened the door, he could see some people still heading outside, but most people were already gone. He speed-walked down the hall, hoping that maybe he could blend into the crowd and just--

“Stern!” 

Connor flinched at hearing Fowler call his name, sighing before turning around. “Yes, sir?” 

Captain Jeffrey Fowler had always cut an intimidating figure. Connor was grateful that he didn’t work directly under him because while he wasn’t easily intimidated, Fowler was still someone he had learned was not to be trifled with. He wasn’t even sure if he had ever seen the man crack a smile before.  
“What are you doing lagging behind?” 

“My apologies, sir, I was using the restroom when the alarm went off,” Connor replied curtly. Fowler gave him a once over and frowned. 

“You alright, Stern? You look pale.” 

“I’m fine, sir,” he replied hastily. “I just didn’t get much sleep last night. Even Simon pointed out that my eyes looked dark.” He chuckled, but noticed his laugh still sounded a little weak. Fowler made a little thoughtful noise before shaking his head. 

“If you’re sick, go home. Otherwise, get outside with everyone else.” 

“Yes, sir,” Connor nodded, turning on his heel to head out the front of the building. He hoped at some point today, his pulse would finally return to a more relaxed rate. But as he spotted Hank heading out to his car, he realized that might be too optimistic of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo sorry that this took so long to get out. I promise I haven't forgotten about or abandoned this. The past few months have just been one fucking rollercoaster after another. Basically the same health problems are still going on, American healthcare sucks ass at helping anybody, and I've just been on a big ol' struggle bus. I will HOPEFULLY be getting this stuff out on a more regular basis again, there shouldn't be a long drought like this again for a while. This chapter was just particularly rough to write because I had no idea exactly how I wanted to handle this scene, had to go back and forth with my notes to try to keep continuity straight, etc. So hopefully it's passable and I'll do better next time lol.


	5. Collect Call

Even once Connor returned to work, he found his mind wandering. How was he meant to focus on the minutiae of paperwork when he had practically performed a miracle today? Well, “miracle” felt a little too religious. Nevertheless, an impossible feat was performed. He had been able to reverse time. He had an amazing power at his fingertips but all he could do right now was sort out some case files. 

His thoughts also kept wandering back to Hank. Was he okay? Was he shaken up by his confrontation with Chloe or had he shrugged it off? It surely wasn’t the first time someone pointed a weapon at him. Was he focused on his own work, or was he just as distracted as Connor? 

When his shift was over, Connor’s shoulders practically sagged with relief. “Thank god,” he sighed as he walked to the lobby with Simon. 

“Don’t forget, we have Kamski’s class tonight,” Simon reminded him. 

“Oh right,” Connor replied. “Thanks, I needed the reminder.” With everything that had happened today, it had slipped his mind. A photography class almost felt trivial now, but he was still eager to learn from the renowned Elijah Kamski. 

“I figured,” Simon shrugged. “You’ve been pretty distracted today. Try to clear your head before class, okay? You don’t need Kamski making an ass out of you again for not paying attention.”

Connor grimaced, remembering that incident. He had a feeling he would never forget what chiaroscuro was again. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ll come with a clearer head.” 

“Do you think Markus will make it tonight?” Simon asked. “He missed the last class.” 

“Hopefully. I guess if he isn’t, you could always give him your notes again,” Connor grinned, teasing his friend just a little bit. It was no secret that Simon had a crush on Markus except maybe to Markus himself. For being so clever, he sure could be oblivious about these kinds of things. 

“Cut it out!” Simon shoved Connor with a smile. Connor laughed until he stumbled and crashed into someone. 

“Sorry!” Connor said hastily, turning and offering a hand. He barely repressed a grimace as he saw who he’d tripped into. 

“Watch where you’re going, dipshit!” Gavin spat, brushing off his jacket as he stood up. 

“Sorry,” Connor said again, though maybe a little less enthusiastically than before. He and Detective Reed had never really gotten along well. They mostly maintained a professional relationship, forensics and detective, but their disdain for each other wasn’t very hidden. 

“What’s wrong, Stern, got two left feet now or something?”

“Oh shut up, Gavin. I don’t have time for this shit today,” Connor half-groaned. He could feel that headache throbbing again. 

Gavin huffed, crossing his arms. “Oh yeah? Well I didn’t have time for some idiot to scuff up my shoes.”

“Your shoes are always scuffed,” Connor retorted, walking towards the exit in the hopes that Gavin wouldn’t bother pursuing. 

But of course, his luck today was crap. 

“Hey don’t walk away from me!” Gavin growled, grabbing Connor’s arm as he opened the door. He yanked Connor’s arm, making him stumble again but this time he caught himself. 

“What the hell’s your problem?” Connor demanded, pulling his arm back and walking outside. “Calm down!”

“I want an apology,” Gavin replied, glowering at him. Connor looked at him incredulously. 

“For what?” 

“For my shoes!” Gavin snapped, gesturing to his feet. 

“Alright, I’m sorry I scuffed up your shitty shoes,” Connor said delicately, raising a brow at the man’s antics. “Now go away, I wanna go home.” 

But when Connor turned away, Gavin grabbed at his arm again. Frustration boiled over and Connor yanked his arm back hard. Gavin lost his footing and tried to grab at Connor’s messenger bag on his way down, managing to slide it off Connor’s shoulder. As it hit the ground, Connor could hear a crack and he froze. His analog camera was in there. 

“Goddammit, Gavin!” Connor fumed, picking his bag up off the ground carefully. “Just screw off already.”

“Hey, Connor!” 

Connor froze in his tracks. It took a moment before he mustered up the courage to turn toward the voice. 

Hank Anderson had pulled up, radio blaring heavy metal, and was looking at Connor knowingly. He gestured towards Gavin, who was now getting up, and shrugged. 

“Get in,” he said simply. 

*Well...I guess it’s time to talk. *

Connor took a deep breath before jogging over and getting into Hank’s beat-up car. As they pulled away, Connor gave an apologetic wave to Simon, who looked just as surprised as Connor felt. 

“Thanks for that,” Connor said, raising his voice to be heard over the radio. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Hank waved a hand dismissively. 

Connor wanted to say that of course he would worry about it, that this was their first interaction in years, that he felt undeserving of the gesture. Instead, he just nodded.

Connor lifted his bag into his lap to check the damage from the fall. The outside just had a bit of dirt, but it was the inside he was concerned with. Unfortunately, he wasn’t surprised by his findings. 

“Augh, damn it,” Connor groaned as he took his now-busted camera out of his bag. “I knew I heard a crack when my bag fell.” He gingerly lifted it to look at it better, scowling when he heard a quiet rattle from it. “Fucking Gavin.”

Hank spared a quick glance from the road to see the damage. “Think you can fix it?”

“I’ll have to take it apart probably,” Connor sighed, gently placing the camera back in his bag. “My repair kit is back at my place...somewhere. I’ve never needed it until now.” He tried very hard not to pout. 

Hank hummed thoughtfully. “Why do you even have that thing anyway? It’s the digital era, Connor, get with the program.”

“It was an impulse buy a couple years ago,” Connor admitted sheepishly. “I remembered my mom having one when I was a kid and I always liked watching the photo develop. Digital is best for detail, but analog is great for capturing a moment. It feels...warmer? I guess?” He shifted in the passenger seat, not sure if he made any sense. 

Hank shook his head, but he had a small smile on his face. “You’re still just as goofy as you were five years ago.” Considering he didn’t know exactly where he and Hank stood at the moment, Connor wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. 

“I’ve got a really cute photo of Judo on my fridge.”

“Judo?” 

“Oh, uh, my dog.”

Hank laughed. “Mr. Prim and Proper got a dog? Lemme guess, a corgi?”

Connor rolled his eyes. “She’s a St. Bernard, actually. I got her from the same breeder that gave you Sumo.” 

Hank looked at him in surprise and may have stared longer had he not been driving. “Oh yeah? Why the name?”

Connor felt his ears flush in embarrassment. “Well, you know, she’s Sumo’s half-sister so I picked another martial art. I mostly call her Jude.”

He watched Hank from the corner of his eye as the man seemed to mull that over. “Huh. When did you get her?” 

Connor turned his head to hide the flush spreading to his cheeks. “About five years ago now...I got her a couple weeks after I moved.” He had no intention of telling Hank that half the motivation had been how much he was going to miss Hank and Sumo. In all honesty, he’d been a little in over his head picking a big ass St. Bernard as his first ever dog. And he definitely shouldn’t have adopted her when his apartment wasn’t that big. But Judo was a good girl and had taken well to puppy obedience school. 

“I just keep thinkin’ of the messes Sumo made and imagining you trying to deal with it,” Hank chuckled. 

Part of Connor resented the assumption that he couldn’t handle a few messes, but he laughed anyway because yeah, a big slobbery giant lived with him and she did indeed make messes. 

“So, Gavin sure looked pissed. What’d you do this time?” Hank asked. 

Connor stared out the window and sighed. “You know Gavin, he was just being an asshole like usual. Got mad that I didn’t want to deal with his shit today.” 

“Shitty day for you too, huh?” 

Connor turned to look at Hank and for a moment, he felt like he could see that bullet wound in Hank’s gut again. He swallowed. 

“Yeah, it’s been pretty shitty,” he replied, a slight tremor in his voice. “I feel like I’ve been on the verge of a migraine all day. North gave me some ibuprofen but it didn’t help much.”

Hank clicked his tongue in sympathy. “I’ve been dealing with a hell of a hangover.” 

Connor raised a brow at that. “You got trashed last night?” He knew Hank drank, but he’d never known him to get drunk the night before a shift. 

Hank nodded, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “Yeah. Almost threw up in the shower this morning.”

Connor grimaced. “Jeez. Who were you out with to get that plastered?”

Hank cleared his throat and tapped the steering wheel with his thumb. “Uh, no one. I was at home.” 

“Oh.../Oh/.”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, I dunno why I brought it up.”

Connor wanted to say “because we’re friends” but he felt that probably wasn’t the right thing to say right now. “Hangovers suck,” he chose instead. 

“That they do,” Hank agreed. 

Silence fell between them and Connor wondered if Hank felt as awkward as he did. He’d had the slight hope that maybe they would fall back in stride with each other effortlessly, and while this wasn’t going as badly as he’d expected, there still was the elephant in the room that neither man seemed ready to address. He wasn’t even sure how to address it. There was no good excuse for him practically ghosting Hank for 5 goddamn years. 

Connor pulled his bag into his lap as Hank pulled into his driveway. Not much seemed to have changed about Hank’s house. Fewer flowers than when Andrea was around, which surprised him a bit since he knew Hank had been fond of them. Maybe without someone else to water them, Hank just didn’t have the time anymore. 

“Watch out for Sumo when you go in,” Hank said, his voice snapping Connor from his thoughts. “Never did get him to stop jumping when I come in.” 

Connor chuckled. “Will do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey look who finally updated! I know I thought updates would come faster but god is it hard to write chronologically when you have ideas in your head. Thank you all for your patience with me. The good news is that my health is on an upswing! 
> 
> Also, I have a playlist on Spotify for this fic! Idk if I’m allowed to link it, but the title is “Detroit is Strange vibes” if you’re interested! It’s just songs that make me think of this fic either in mood, lyrics, or both. Oh, and going forward, chapters will have song title names, most if not all from that playlist. 
> 
> Anyway I hope you’re enjoying DiS so far!


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